Encounters
by Zathara001
Summary: When Chamblin House opens to the public, Jacob Stone runs into an old friend and new acquaintances. This is a one-off set in the Brothers-verse. It takes place sometime after "United."


DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything to do with Leverage or The Librarians. Dean Devlin, John Rogers, and others do. All rights in this work are hereby given to them.

This is a one-off set in the Brothers-verse. It takes place sometime after "United."

"Why are we going to this … Chamblin House again?" Nathan Ford asked. Beside him in the back seat of the black London cab, his wife was almost vibrating with excitement.

"Because I've never been," Sophie replied. "The owners are rumored to have one of the most impressive art and antiquities collections in the world, but they kept the collection private."

"That shouldn't have stopped Sophie Devereaux from seeing it if she wanted to." She was, after all, one of the greatest grifters who'd ever lived, Nate thought. Getting inside a private collection should've been trivial for her.

"Sophie Devereaux thought her Duchess Charlotte Prentiss identity was more valuable than satisfying her curiosity."

"You couldn't get in with that identity?" That didn't sound like the Sophie Devereaux he knew and loved.

"The House of Benwick is a reclusive lot," Sophie said, "and arrogant even by British standards. An old family. They wouldn't give the time of day to a relative newcomer like Charlotte Prentiss. But now they've opened the house and the collection to the public."

"Seems an odd thing to do," Nate observed. "Especially if they're as arrogant as you say."

"Perhaps the patriarch died, and the younger generation has more modern ideas?" Sophie suggested. "Whatever the reason, I've been curious to see the Benwick Collection since before I met you. I'm not letting this opportunity pass by."

Nate smiled at her excitement. She'd been glad to get back home to London after their round-the-world cruise, but since she'd caught up on her snail mail and read the announcement that Chamblin House was opening its doors to the public, she'd been giddy in a way he'd never seen her before.

He liked seeing her giddy.

The hackney pulled up outside Chamblin House. Nate paid the driver then followed Sophie up the steps to the front door and inside.

Nate was surprised to see no obvious security measures - no cameras, no hermetically-sealed pressure-sensitive glass enclosures, not even a laser grid installed along the floor. Parker would be disappointed by the lack of challenge.

Nate trailed after Sophie as she went from dining room to drawing room to library, lingering over antiquities from Egypt and Rome, passing by Chinese pieces.

"Ming vases are passe," she murmured when he asked why, almost too low for him to hear. "The market's glutted with them, has been for years."

Nate nodded an acknowledgment, then returned to absently scanning the pieces as they went. He had little interest in items like these in and of themselves, which trait had made him one of the best insurance fraud investigators IYS ever had. He wasn't distracted by the stories or history that surrounded them, instead focusing on their value and how someone might have stolen them.

That didn't mean Nate couldn't appreciate art, of course, but it did mean that he had to clear his mind of work-related matters before turning to appreciation, and now that he'd noticed the lack of security measures, his mind refused to turn off and let him enjoy the objects for their beauty.

So he could be forgiven, Nate thought, when Sophie's voice startled him. "Is that Maggie?"

Nate followed her gaze across the library and caught a glimpse of blonde hair and a dimpled smile.

"Not surprising that she'd be here," Nate said, his attention already returning to their surroundings. How could the owners of the Benwick Collection be so cavalier about security?

"We should say hello," Sophie said, taking Nate's arm. Only two steps later, she paused. "Who's that with her? Is that …"

Her voice trailed off, a sure sign that Nate wasn't going to like whatever came next.

Once again Nate looked across the room toward Maggie. Now that he looked more closely, he saw that yes, she was chatting with a dark-haired man. Nate frowned. Why would he recognize a friend of Maggie's? Then the man laughed, and the movement brought his profile into relief.

He'd cut his hair, Nate saw, but it was still, "Eliot."

#

Jacob Stone surveyed the library at Chamblin House with satisfaction. His idea to convert the Serpent Brotherhood's collection to a private museum and archive for scholarly research had gone over better than he and his twin, Eliot, had planned.

Since the official opening the week before, they'd had a steady stream of both visitors and scholars, and the four bedrooms they'd allotted for scholars engaged in long-term research were all booked for at least a month.

By any measure, then, the plan was a success - but for Jacob, the biggest success was walking toward him. He crossed the room to meet his visitor halfway, unwilling to hide the smile that stretched his cheeks.

"Glad to see you again, Dr. Collins," he said.

Maggie Collins smiled back at him, and the room seemed much lighter than it had the moment before. "I'm glad to be back, Jacob."

"Adam," Jacob corrected.

"Sorry?" Maggie was still smiling, but now it turned puzzled.

"I'm Adam Sinclair tonight," Jacob said. "It's a long story."

Maggie stepped closer and lowered her voice. "Because that's the name Eliot was using that night in Portland?"

"Partly," Jacob said, and it was a relief to talk openly about this part of his life, especially with someone who wasn't a Librarian. "I used the name, too. One of several pen names I wrote articles under. It was a surprise when I found out Eliot used the same name in the same context."

"So those articles I found when I looked for Adam Sinclair - you wrote those?"

"I did." Jacob felt pride swelling within his chest, tried to keep it from showing on his face.

Maggie laughed. "And here I thought that Hardison had just done a really good job at building Eliot's fake identity."

"No, that was all me."

"Interesting." She smiled up at him. "You said one of several pen names. Would I have heard of any others?"

"Maybe," Jacob said. "James MacAfee, Griffin Griffaud, Oliver Thompson -"

"No, really?" Maggie cut him off. "Oliver Thompson?"

"Oliver Thompson. Why?"

"He changed the way I think about places like this. Architecture is just -"

"Art that we live in," Jacob finished with her, and couldn't help smiling again. "I'm glad someone got that."

"Well, places like this are art. Modern architecture - not so much." Maggie looked thoughtful for a moment. "If that's true, and if art can influence our emotions, maybe modern architecture is to blame for people being so rude all the time."

Jacob laughed. "I hadn't thought about it like that, but you could be right."

"Do I see another article in the making?" Maggie asked, and Jacob could only hope that he really did hear a teasing, flirtatious note in her tone.

Whether he did or not, he swallowed and said, "Maybe we could write it together?"

She smiled. "I'd like that. But I warn you, it's been years since I wrote for publication."

"Like riding a bicycle," Jacob assured her, and was so caught up in the brightness of her smile that he didn't notice the man with the dark, disheveled curly hair approaching them until he was within speaking distance.

"Maggie," the man said. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Maggie blinked at the man. "More than I expected to see you here, I think."

"It's my fault," the dark-haired woman standing behind the other man said. She had an upper-class British accent, unlike the man's California inflection. "I've been wanting to see the Benwick Collection for years. How are you, Maggie?"

Maggie smiled at the woman, and Jacob allowed himself to relax a little. He relaxed more when Maggie stepped forward to hug the other woman.

The man's hand landed on Jacob's arm. "A word, Eliot?"

The use of his twin's name, plus Maggie's easy familiarity with them suggested that their companions were Nathan Ford and his wife, Sophie, but still, "Y'might want to move your hand."

Ford's hand stayed where it was. "A word."

Jacob tried to imagine this man out-stubborning Eliot and failed. Even when they were kids, Eliot was the stubbornest person Jacob had ever met, and Jacob couldn't imagine that had changed over the years.

It was a trait that ran in the family, though, and Jacob might lose a contest of wills to his twin, but he wouldn't lose to this man, friend of Eliot's or not.

So he took a mental breath and settled himself, then met the other man's gaze without expression. One heartbeat, two, three… Ford flinched at ten.

"Let's take this somewhere we can talk," Jacob said when Ford removed his hand.

"You go on," the British woman - Sophie - said with an airy wave. "We'll catch up after we're done catching up."

With a nod, Jacob indicated the door to a hallway that led to what had been the scullery. Dulaque had converted it to an office, and now it was the administrative center of Chamblin House and the Benwick Collection.

By the time he closed the door behind them, Ford's expression was angry.

"Dammit, Eliot - what are you doing, involving Maggie in… in whatever you're doing?"

"I'm not Eliot."

"What do you -" Ford began, then stopped and restarted. "I get that you're not Eliot for this job, whatever the job is, but how dare you get my wife -"

"Ex-wife," Jacob corrected. "And I'm not Eliot, ever. I'm Jacob Stone. Want to see my ID?"

"Like I don't know Hardison can make fakes that look more real than the real thing."

Jacob opened his mouth, shut it again. "True, but he didn't make mine. I'm Eliot's twin brother."

#

 _I'm Eliot's twin brother._

Nate heard the words, knew what they all meant, individually. Collectively, in that order, they made no sense.

"Eliot doesn't have a brother," he began, then stopped himself. A long time ago, one of their earliest jobs, Eliot had made an offhanded comment about family.

 _My nephew would like Bibletopia._

"You're the one with the son who'd like Bibletopia?" Nate asked.

The other man frowned for a moment, obviously puzzled by the question, then just as obviously shook his confusion off. "No, that'd be our sister."

"Sister," Nate repeated. Somehow, the mental image of Eliot with a twin brother and a sister - older? younger? - just would not come together.

"Look, I get it," the other man, Jacob, was saying. "I get that Eliot doesn't talk about his family, and you and Sophie were on a cruise when we got back together, but I really am his twin."

"Different last name," Nate murmured, his mind running through several possibilities until the most logical one appeared. "Of course, Eliot would've changed it if he were leaving his past behind. Only question is, when?"

"When he enlisted," Jacob answered.

Nate nodded, then brought his mind back to the present and, "So what's going on? Why are you here? What's Maggie's involvement with - whatever this is?"

Jacob smiled, and Nate was surprised to see how easily the expression came to him - so unlike Eliot's casual smirks or half-smiles. "You could call this our inheritance. Technically, Eliot's, but he asked me to manage it."

"Manage it?" Nate prompted.

"Yeah. This is what I do. Art history and architecture." Jacob grinned again, and Nate supposed that was due to his own expression, which had to reflect his shock at the thought that anyone related to Eliot Spencer - especially his twin - would be interested in a more academic pursuit. "We look alike. Doesn't mean we think alike."

"And Maggie?" Nate asked.

"She inventoried and authenticated the collection for us," Jacob said. "It's only right that she see what she helped create."

Nate nodded. The explanation made sense, but still he felt that Jacob Stone wasn't telling him the whole story. To be fair, that perception was based on what he'd learned of Eliot Spencer - but they were twins. Surely they'd share some of the same tells? Or maybe he needed to prod a bit more.

"You know Eliot's made enemies. She'll be safe?"

"I thought you knew him better than that."

Nate blinked. He'd learned long ago not to underestimate Eliot Spencer - though unlike most who made that mistake, he probably wouldn't end up dead if he did - and now it seemed he needed not to underestimate Eliot's twin, either.

"But since you need the reassurance," Jacob continued, drawing Nate from his momentary reverie, "I'll tell you that the night this started, the first thing Eliot did was get Maggie out of the line of fire. Turns out there wasn't any, but we didn't know that at the time. And then when she came here the first time, he made sure there was someone to keep an eye on her."

That set all of Nate's internal alarms ringing. "Who?"

"Name's Quinn. I never met him, but Eliot seemed to trust him."

Nate recognized the name and had to admit that if Eliot couldn't watch over Maggie himself, he'd at least chosen a good substitute.

"So," Jacob concluded, "while nothing in this life is perfectly safe, in this place, she's as safe as she can be."

"Thanks," Nate said. "And you were right, I do know him better than that. I'm just a little - shell-shocked."

"Hey, I get it," Jacob said. "I felt the same way when I ran into Eliot again."

"There's a story there," Nate observed.

"There is."

Anything else Jacob might have said was cut off when the door opened and Sophie breezed in, Maggie following behind her at a somewhat more sedate pace.

"Oh, good," Sophie said. "He hasn't killed you yet."

Jacob laughed before Nate could respond. "That's Eliot's thing, ma'am, not mine."

"So Maggie said." Sophie extended her hand. "Sophie Devereaux."

"Jacob Stone." He shook her hand. "I'd say I've heard a lot about you both, but that would be a lie."

"If you've heard anything at all about me, that would be more than we've heard about you," Sophie replied. "But this - the Benwick Collection is amazing. Maggie tells me you're in charge of it?"

"I manage it," Jacob said. "Would you like a tour?"

"And the story behind it," Sophie said.

"As much as I know," Jacob promised and offered her his arm. "Ma'am?"

Sophie took his arm and walked with him out of the room, asking a question that Nate couldn't make out. He shook his head, and then realized that he was alone with Maggie.

"You look good," Maggie said.

"I am." And it was still a surprise that he could say those words and mean them.

"I'm glad," she said simply. Then she fixed him with that too-knowledgeable look she'd perfected so many years before. "Sophie's good for you."

Nate could only nod. That was true - Sophie had brought him back from the brink of self-destruction, most of the time without even realizing what she was doing.

"Better for you than I was."

"No, Maggie, that's not true," Nate protested automatically.

"I think it is." Maggie smiled at him, and there was a hint of sadness to it. "You're … lighter, somehow, with her than you ever were with me."

"Maggie -"

"It's okay, Nate," Maggie told him. "It means you're happy, and I'm glad you're happy."

And he was, Nate realized. For the first time in many years, he was happy. Why had it taken his wife - no, his ex-wife, saying so for him to realize it?

Answering that question would probably take an army of therapists, or a tanker of whiskey, so Nate put it aside and focused on the woman standing before him.

"How about you, Maggie? Are you happy?"

She smiled again, wide and honest. "I'm taking a new job, and I think it has a lot of potential. So if I'm not, I'm at least getting there."

Nate nodded an acknowledgment, and then Maggie was in his arms, her own tight around him. It should have been intimate, given how well they knew each other, but it was oddly chaste, Nate thought as he held her close for just a moment.

Of course it was that moment that the door opened to Sophie and Jacob returning from their tour.

Maggie squeezed once more before pulling away and shoving a finger in Nate's face. "You take care of her, or I'm calling Eliot."

Nate winced, and Sophie laughed. "Thanks, Maggie," she said.

"And you."

Sophie jerked back as Maggie's finger invaded her personal space. "Take care of him, or I'm calling Parker."

"Parker?" Jacob repeated, obviously puzzled. "I get calling Eliot, but why call Parker?"

"Because," Maggie said, "Parker will divest her of every _thing_ that she loves, or even likes, starting with a certain pair of Jimmy Choos that, quote, feel like walking on air."

Jacob nodded as though that made sense, and Nate figured it was time to step in. "Now that the shovel talks are out of the way - how about lunch?"

#

Two hours later, Jacob stood outside the Savoy Grill with Maggie, waving at the cab that would take Nate and Sophie back to their own lives.

"So that's Nate and Sophie," he murmured, hardly aware he spoke aloud. He hadn't known what to expect from the pair that not only Eliot, but also Parker and Hardison, spoke about with such affection.

"They seem … normal."

Maggie laughed. "In an abnormal kind of way."

Jacob chuckled with her, then fell into an easy silence as they turned back toward Chamblin House. The afternoon was mild and after the lunch they'd had, Jacob figured the walk would do them good.

"Were you serious, earlier, when you suggested writing an article together?" Maggie asked after a few blocks.

"Why wouldn't I be? It's not like you're a nobody, _Dr. Collins_."

She smiled at the emphasis he'd given her title. "I was just thinking that it'll be easier if we're in the same city."

"Probably," Jacob agreed, "but e-mail and telephones work." And they would, too, unless magic were unleashed on the world. So far, he and his fellow Librarians had kept that from happening, and he knew they'd continue doing so as long as they were able.

"They do," Maggie conceded. "But as it happens, I'm taking a job in Portland. Curator at the Portland Art Museum. It'll be easy for us to work together."

Jacob swallowed. Was he imagining the invitation in her tone? There was only one way to find out. "What if I want to play together, not just work together?"

"I think that'll be even easier."


End file.
